Snuff
by Nippz
Summary: Kyle's slowly sinking into a dark hole, one which he fears he may never get out of. Can he be rescued? Can he be shown that the world isn't that bad, and there are some people that love him?
1. It doesn't really matter, now does it?

**I have not written anything in quite a while. I am rusty. Please excuse the… well, the badness of this chapter. I don't like going fast, and I am rusty, so I'm not as good as I could be. Again, I'm sorry. Just keep reading. ^^**

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"_**Kyle, I only do what I do because I love you."**_

"_**Mom, I-"**_

"_**Don't interrupt me, Kyle. I only want what's best for you."**_

"_**Mom! I'm tired of hearing the same bullshit! I didn't DO anything!"**_

"_**Kyle! Do NOT use that kind of language in this house!"**_

_**I opened my mouth to speak, to spit off some of the acid that had been burning my tongue for quite a while, but closed it. There was no use arguing with this woman. There never was. Her word was law, and, as for everything and everyone else that had their own opinion, they didn't matter. They could go fuck themselves, for all she cared. **_

"_**Whatever. I'm going to school." And with that, I slammed the door behind me with unnecessary force. Hell, if she was already pissed off, whyyyyle… YLE… **_

"_**Kyle! Kyle Broflovski! PAY ATTENTION!!" **_

_**The sudden scream of the teacher dragged me from my flashback of this morning. Call it intuition, but everyone's eyes had focused on me, just because I had been reprimanded. Ha. Had they never seen that before? Was it so rare? Especially in this class. But, not wanting to be any more rude than I already had been, I muttered a small "Sorry", even if I really wasn't.**_

"_**Now, if you would be so kind," Mr. Leach spoke in a nasally voice, one which reminded me of my mother. His words oozed sarcasm, clearly still mad about what had happened moments ago. "Would you PLEASE answer the question?"**_

_**I quickly glanced down at my paper, then back at the teacher hovering above my desk. "Wouldn't it help if I knew which question to answer?" Fuck being polite.**_

"_**Twenty-four."**_

_**Again, my eyes traveled down to my work. "Y=7." I didn't feel like saying the whole problem; it really wasn't necessary. Everyone knew what we were doing. It baffled me as to why we spent so much time on easy things such as this, but when we're taught something no one understands, he blows through it, not stopping when someone has a question or when we don't understand it. Hell, he won't even give us the notes when we're absent.**_

_**Mr. Leach snorted a quick laugh, and went on bellowing to the class, calling on the next unsuspecting victim. But that was no different than usual. He always picked on the quiet kids; the day dreamers. The kids no teacher would ever notice, let alone call on. In his class, no one blended in with the wallpaper. No matter how hard they tried. There was always that chance that you would be the next person to speak, and if you didn't have the answer, well, you had hell to pay. Leach was a dictator. Like Adolf Hitler, like Fidel Castro, like… like… like my mom. **_

_**With that small thought, I couldn't help but laugh. I kinda felt bad afterwards, but I couldn't help it. Just the thought of my mother in a uniform like Hitler's made me want to laugh. I could see Cartman dressed up like that, yes. But to be able to see my own mother like that? Hilarity.**_

_**A shrill noise echoed throughout the classroom, and, in an instant, the once silent classroom erupted with sound. Everyone became alive, their faces became animated with the excitement of the end of class. Chairs scraped the floor, papers were being hastily shoved into notebook and binders. Everyone wanted to leave, and I couldn't blame them.**_

_**The day was over; school wise, anyway. For many kids, this was where the day began. Students would hustle to their lockers, trying to escape the masses as quickly as they could. They would hurry home, possibly do their homework, and then go out. They wouldn't return home until well after dark, some time before curfew. Or, if they could, they would sneak around all night. It's not like the police ever do anything about it. **_

_**After the first wave of students crowded the stairways, I figured it was now or never. But, just as I became my descend, a familiar voice was calling my name in the background. I turned, and, not so much to my surprise, I saw Stan. We usually walked home on nice days like today. Sure, our conversations never took interesting turns; they were just plain and straight forward, but it was still nice to have a bit of company. I like being alone. Everyone does at one point or another, but I liked being around people when I was in a shitty mood. It made me feel better, like I was doing something right. If someone could keep company with me, maybe I wasn't as horrible as I've been told I was. Maybe…**_

"_**Kyle."**_

_**My head snapped up, my stare focused on who the single word had come from. I didn't realize I had gotten lost in my thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?" I know he had said something; I had heard it. My mind just didn't process it.**_

"_**I asked if you were all right. You seem kinda down."**_

_**I shrugged. It wasn't like Stan to ask something like that. I must've really looked like crap for him to ask something like that. Was I all right? I certainly didn't feel it. These last few years had really started to take a toll on me. I wanted to ignore everything, I wanted to make believe this was all just one big dream, and I would wake up to a life that was better than this. A life where I had parents who cared; or at least pretended to. A life where I could do something, and not fear the yelling that was bound to come. I want parents who care; who'll actually sit down with me, and ask me about my day. Help me with a problem I have, or when I'm confused about what to do. **_

"_**Yeah, I'm fine." Lying always IS better than the truth.**_

"_**Are you sure?" He was still at it. "You seem kinda… quiet lately.." **_

_**I nodded. I saw no difference in my attitude. It had been the same way for the last few years. **_

"_**So.. I.. uh, broke up with Wendy."**_

_**Ah. That explains it. Between break-ups, he was always more alert. Without a girl standing in between him and his friends, he noticed a lot more. His mind wasn't clouded with the constant thought of his girlfriend. He was always a bit sadder, yes, but what can you expect? He's been with the girl for years.**_

"_**Again? How long's it gonna last this time?"**_

_**Stan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "It's kinda… permanent."**_

_**I was surprised. Seriously. He usually said between one to two weeks. He's never said it was permanent before. But I doubted that. No matter how badly they fought, no matter how much they clamed to hate each other, they always made up. Like it's a rule or something. **_

_**I laughed, trying to break the awkward atmosphere that had settled around us. "I doubt that. You two always seem to get back together." **_

"_**Well, maybe not this time."**_

_**I looked over to him. The seriousness is his voice caught me by surprise. "Well, what happened?"**_

_**He shrugged, clearly unwilling to open up this subject. So, I merely nodded, understanding not wanting to talk about it. Not more than a minute had passed before he spoke again. "Sorry, dude. I gotta go watch my little brother. I'll talk to you later, alright?"**_

_**I nodded, and waved to him as he hurried across the street, and entered his house. It was finally quiet, not that I minded. The awkward air had vanished; I felt the tightness in my chest disappear as well. **_

_**I shoved my hands into my pockets, staring up at the sky, contrary to looking at the ground, as I had been for quite some time. Despite my efforts, I couldn't quell my racing mind. I wasn't a depressed kid. I certainly wasn't suicidal. I just think a lot. And thinking made me realize just how crappy reality had become. I might not be depressed (in my eyes), but I definitely wasn't the happiest. I just didn't feel like myself anymore. I feel empty. Like no one cares anymore. No one wants me to be around them. I have yet to find my purpose on this earth. Is it just to torture me? Yes, probably. If not, why have things gotten the way they are? Why don't I have a dad like I used to? Why are my mom and I always fighting?**_

_**I love my mom. I always have, and I always will. But she's gotten far too strict. I wouldn't necessarily label her as abusive, but… she's definitely on the borderline. Moms are supposed to care for their children. Hug them when they're hurt. Help them when they're lost in the train wreck called life; push them towards the light instead of dragging them away from it. …Aren't they? If that's the case, why do I get called a failure? Why can't I talk to my mom without the fear of getting judged? Why have I fallen into this black hole, and fear I may never come out?**_

_**My dad is the complete opposite, though. We haven't had a proper conversation in over five years, Not even a "hello" when he comes home from work. No "good night"s when I go up to my room at night. Dinner is silent. As is every other moment, apart from fighting. I don't know if that's his way of dealing with the fighting; blocking out the world. He's become numb. He ignores his children, and when he doesn't, there's no emotion in his voice. No feeling. Nothing. Sometimes I wonder… Does he even love us anymore…?**_

_**I glanced up, slipping out of my ever-repeating thought process. My feet had taken me to Stark's Pond. I frequented this spot as a kid. In fact, I still dropped by once in a while. Usually after school, or when I storm out of the house. Since I didn't want to walk anymore, I took a seat under a tree.**_

_**It was a pleasant day. Winter had just ended, and the crisp air had begun to turn a more desirable temperature. The sky was cloudless; a deep, endless blue was painted from one horizon to the other. **_

_**I sighed, content with the peace, Sometimes I wished it was this quiet at home. But I doubt it'll ever be like this at home again. I always get yelled at. I don't even have to do anything. Everyday there's something I did wrong. Something I could have done better. She says it's for my own good, that it's because she loves me, but sometimes I wonder if she just likes to yell. If she just likes that pathetic look on my face after another round of screaming and arguing. It makes me feel wrong. It makes me feel terrible. I feel like she doesn't want me. She wants someone better than me, someone who can live up to her expectations. I could get all A's. I could clean the entire house; make it look like we just moved in. But it doesn't matter. I didn't try hard enough. I didn't clean well enough. I didn't do my best. Even when I do. And it makes me feel like shit. She doesn't understand what it does to me. I'm sixteen god damn years old. I don't want to fight with my mother. I don't want to be ignored by my father. I want to have parents that care. That talk to me and tell me everything's going to be alright. I want to hang out with my friends. I don't want to be miserable all the time. **_

_**I was pulled out of my thoughts, again, though this time by my phone vibrating. Reluctantly, I fished the annoyance out of my pocket, and flipped it open. **_

"_**Hello?" I didn't need to see the caller I.D. to tell who it was.**_

"_**Kyle! Why aren't you home yet? You have to watch Ike tonight!"**_

"_**Yeah, sorry. I forgot." Lies.**_

"_**Well, get home this instant!"**_

"_**Okay."**_

_**I snapped my phone closed. There wasn't any point arguing. She seemed to be in a good mood, and, maybe, I wouldn't have to fight with her tonight. But that's what I hope every night. Never really happens, though…**_

_**My walk home was quiet. Children were playing on the street before the sun went down and the temperature dropped below freezing. I smiled. Being a kid was the best time in my life. Sure, I had to deal with Cartman, but it sure was fun as hell. Our group did the craziest things. We all still go to the bus stop in the morning, and sit together at lunch, but they knew nothing about my home life. It wasn't too bad, but it was also something they don't need to know, unless necessary. I knew about theirs, of course. None of them ever shut up. But I wasn't going to waste my time explaining to people who don't care. There was no reason. **_

_**My arrival home was quicker than I had hoped, and as I walked in the front door, my mom almost immediately launched into the "emergency" speech. Luckily, I stopped her, telling her I knew what to do. She said something, but I couldn't hear it. Within minutes, both my parents were out the door, and disappearing down the street. **_

_**Ike was upstairs in his room, doing whatever kids do. Well, normal kids. Something I certainly wasn't. In a way, I envied Ike. Though he was adopted, he was treated more like my parent's child than I was. My mom basically spoiled him. Whatever he wanted, he got. But he really didn't want that much. Our father ignores both of us the same, so we share that one thing. But he doesn't have to fight. But, at the same time, I feel bad for him. Everyday he has to listen to yelling and screaming. He has to listen to his older brother cussing, and being called names. I love him. I really do. But I don't want him to be here. Not because I want what he has, but because I don't want him to deal with what I have to. Will it be the same way for him when I turn eighteen and leave? I wonder.. If that happens, I'm taking him. I don't care if I get the cops called on me. I am NOT letting him go through what I have to. I'm not letting him feel what I feel. That sadness, that rejection. From his own parents! That feeling that nothing you do matters, because it's not good enough. That no matter what you do, it's just going to be ignored. That hurts. All kids want is to be accepted by their parents. And if they aren't… what happens then? Do they shrivel up and die? If not physically, then emotionally? Do they lose all feeling? Do they just DIE? Sometimes, it feels like it. Like, it I'm not wanted, I should just die and-**_

"_**Kyle?"**_

_**I looked up. How much time had passed? **_

"_**Yeah Ike?" **_

_**He plopped down next to me on the couch, and simply stared at me. Stared with those questioning eyes that just make you want to just pull them into your lap, and tell them whatever they want to know. A minute or two passed, and I started to wonder if he just wanted to get my attention. **_

"_**Why do you and mom always yell at each other?" His words were so sweet… so innocent.**_

_**I sighed. The truth was, I didn't want him to know. I hated lying to him, but sometimes I needed to.**_

"_**I'm not too sure, Ike. Mom just seems to be in a bad mood lately." By lately, I mean the last few years or so. **_

_**Ike smiled, content with that simple answer. I glanced at the clock. It was past nine, and my parents would be home any minute. **_

"_**Hey Ike, I think you should go upstairs before mom and dad get home. You're supposed to be in bed, and I don't want you to get in trouble."**_

_**He nodded, and quickly hurried up the stairs. I heard a car drive down the street, and right into our driveway. Well, hopefully, dinner will have gone well, and there'll be no need for a fight. Into the house they came, but instead of looking happy and relaxed, my mom looked pissed.**_

"_**Kyle!! Why didn't you call me?!"**_

"_**Call you? When was I supposed to call you?"**_

"_**At seven! I told you to call me!"**_

"_**Mom, I didn't hear-" I was cut off.**_

"_**You know I don't like it when you don't do important things!"**_

"_**Mom!" Again.**_

"_**I was worried sick! I didn't know if-" **_

"_**Mom! SHUT UP! I didn't fucking hear you say ANYTHING about calling you! Otherwise I would have!" I didn't want to resort to yelling, but it was the only way to get her to stop talking for a minute. **_

"_**Kyle! Don't use that language in this house!!"**_

"_**Why the fuck does it matter what I do?! It's never good enough for you anyway!"**_

"_**Go to your room, Kyle! I don't need to hear this from you!"**_

_**I wasn't taking this. I didn't need to. So I stomped up the stairs and slammed my door. It creaked, tired of it's constant abuse. I related more with that door than anyone else I know. I felt trapped in my room. Like I was suffocating, and there wasn't any air left for me to breath. At times like these I resort to drastic measures. Quietly, I slipped my window open, and climbed down. They didn't come to my room after fights. They left me to boil and tear my room apart. So I was free to walk around until I cooled down.**_

_**However long that might be.**_


	2. Daddy Dearest, where have you gone?

I had intended on only staying out an hour, two at the most. It was much too cold outside to stay out there longer than necessary. But, instead, I ended up staying out until 6am, when I was supposed to wake up for school. I had snuck in my window merely minutes before my mother came in, and drug me out of bed. It was quite difficult getting ready; the soothing hot water in the shower almost lulled me to sleep. At the moment I realized this, I hoped out, and attempted to make myself decent. I went down the stairs slowly, and plopped onto the couch. I had to leave for school now or I was going to miss the bus, but I didn't feel like getting up. I was tired, yes, but I could deal with that. It was the fact that I still felt like shit from the night before. I was in no mood to go to school and deal with people, especially the idiots I was forced to inhabit that school with. One of those idiots being myself.

A few minutes later, my mother walked in the room, eying me suspiciously. I should have been on the bus, on my way to school. I didn't speak to her though, I simply sat there and stared.

"Kyle, why aren't you at school?" There was only a matter of time before she asked this.

"Don't feel well." My voice was think, sounding like I had just woken up.

"Oh my poor baby!" She cried, hurrying over to me.

I had to keep from laughing. Her poor baby? Since when was I her 'baby'? Wasn't I usually the subject to her abuse? Or was I missing something important.

Her wrist pressed against my forehead, and she frowned. I don't know if I had a fever from being out all night, or if she thought I was faking it. "What? Were you out in the cold all night? You're burning up!" Well, there was my answer.

I couldn't help but laugh a little; that's exactly what I did. Of course, she would never know that. For all she knew I was simply sick, and there was no rhyme of reason behind it. She ordered my back up to my room. I really didn't mind. Maybe I could sleep it off. Ah, sleep. Sounds so nice right now..

Despite how tired I was, I couldn't rest. I don't know why, I just couldn't. My legs felt like they needed to move; they needed to be up doing SOMETHING. I couldn't sit still. I was up and down, pacing around my room, trying to relieve that feeling. But it didn't work. Whenever I would lay down, I tossed and turned, and whenever I was up, I was moving around my room, trying to find something to calm me down. I picked up a bottle in my drawer. Sleeping pills? Nah, I hate how lethargic those things make me feel when I wake up..

After a while, I gave up, and simply stayed in my bed. I heard my phone vibrate on my nightstand, and flipped it open.

_Stan_

_Mar, 20 7:15am_

_Hey where r u?_

I laughed a bit. I didn't want to text back, but I had no choice. He would blow up my phone if I didn't answer.

_Home. Don't feel well._

I closed my phone, and placed it back on the nightstand. I wonder what class Stan's in right now. I wonder if he's gotten back together with Wendy. He SAID it was permanent, but did he really mean it? Hell, they break up once a week. What even keeps them together? Years of knowing each other, and spending a crap load of time together? They're not all that good for each other. Always fighting, and arguing. They barely agree on anything anymore, and when they do, one of them has something to complain about. Stupid if you ask me..

Oh, there goes my phone.

_Stan_

_Mar, 20 7:24am_

_o, ok. Feel better._

_I snapped my phone closed. I really didn't feel like answering right now. Maybe later. Exhaustion was finally starting to hit me._

_The rest of the day didn't consist of much. I slept between my mom constantly checking in on me. Did she think I was going to sneak out? I just wanted some decent sleep. You know, for more than a few--_

"_Kyle!"_

_Who the.. Did my DAD just call me? Really? Is this a dream? Or did I fuck up so bad that he was going to yell at me instead of my mother?_

_I pulled myself out of bed, and down the stairs. He certainly didn't look happy. But when did he? This was probably the most emotion I've seen in months._

"_What?"_

_He didn't speak. Just stared._

"_Tell me what you were doing on Main Street at 3am?" He spat his words through his teeth._

_My mother made an audible gasp. "Kyle! You were out at 3am?! Doing WHAT!!"_

"_I was-!"_

"_Three in the god damn morning, Kyle!" He was seething with anger. "You're supposed to be asleep by ELEVEN!"_

"_I was MAD! I was trying to-!" Why bother. Really.._

"_I don't care! Eleven means ELEVEN! No later!"_

"_Why the hell do you care anyway?! It's not like you pay any attention to us!!"_

_He didn't speak, but as I was about to say something, the world went black----…_

_---_

_Err. I know it's short. The next chapter will be longer. Hopefully. If I get off my lazy ass and finish._

_I do not own South Park, and I never will. _


	3. Isn't it all so,,,

+5 internets to whoever can guess where I got the Heaven reference from.

Mentions of suicide.

The only real reason I'm writing this is for one of my friends. I would have given up on it by now. Ha, doesn't matter if I do or not. Seems tempting.

Don't own South Park kthxbye.

---

I stared into the mirror, wondering if what I saw was real. Maybe if I stared hard enough, the reflection would go away. Maybe I would morph into some other being or just disappear from existence. Or maybe the mirror would just crack. Would it shatter too? Destroy the reflection of a sixteen year old? Shatter my psyche and my soul? Would that be best? I wouldn't have to think anymore. Talk, walk, think, live. Nothing.

Maybe I'm the reflection. Maybe I'm the being trapped in the mirror, looking into the real Kyle's eyes. Maybe this is a parallel universe, and things are better on the other side. That Kyle is popular, happy, loved. He believes in himself, and knows good and bad. On that side, he has friends who know who he is, and help when he needs it. He accepts the help readily, taking any advice he can get. When he's down, he makes himself feel better. He doesn't yell, doesn't argue.

And then there's me; the reflection. The fuck up, the loner, the loser; the kid no one wants, and no one loves. He tries, damn it, but he just can't seem to get anything right. Everything he does is useless. No one notices when he's hurt, no one cares when he's about ready to jump off that steep cliff. He feels like the whole world is against him; that everyone hates him simply because he is different.

Oh that poor boy. Look at him. He looks like he's about to cry! But will he? Is that sadness so great? Ah look, a tear! But will it roll down his bare cheek? No, I don't think so.

This body seems too emotionless sometimes. Fake. Something that's made of plastic and isn't supposed to be walking this earth. Something that should be dead.

Yes, death. How fascinating. Something so mysterious, so scary. Heaven, hell; where will I go? You get told from a very young age that god determines where you will go. You need to act properly, do whatever you're told. You need to always do the right thing, and avoid Sinning to get into the exclusive Heaven. You need to act perfect. But I'm human. And Sin is human nature. I've Sinned. Everyone had. But what do we do to get rid of it? Go to confession? Be bathed in Holy Water? Be baptized, accepted into a religion you will devote your life to? Possibly even sacrifice yourself? Such extremes people will take to get into a place that might not even exist! An what happens then? Do we sit in chairs in a sterile environment, with a cloud background because the artist is too lazy to draw anything else? Will we hold powers that we could use at any moment, yet decide to keep bliss until a maniac on a tour comes and fucks everything up? Why strive out whole lives for something so meaningless? Just for purpose?

Purpose.. What IS my purpose? Is to just to stand here, staring at myself, thinking about nothing? Is it to die? To live a long life alone? Or do they just want me to get sick of it all and kill myself?

How WOULD I kill myself, anyway? Tie cinderblocks to my feet, and jump off the Golden Gate Bridge? No, I don't want to drown. Slit my wrists? Take pills? Hang myself? All to common. If I were to do it, I'd need to not be found; not be saved. If I had set out to die, I'd need to do it in the easiest was possible, a way that's the most effective.

But life's never easy. Not mine, not any else's. There's always a problem, something that stands in the way. There's never a guarantee that things will go the way you envision. Hell, very rarely do things go the way you want them to. I bet that if I ever did try to kill myself, it wouldn't work. Just because my luck is that bad. Someone would find me, and try to save me, or I wouldn't do something right, and completely screw everything up. I wouldn't take enough pills. The rope wouldn't be tight enough. I wouldn't cut deep enough. I'd keep living in this hell whole, with permanent scars reminding me of what I tried to do. Staring at me, showing me that I could have ended it all if I had just done it better. If I hadn't fucked up like I always seem to.

Hm. I smell coffee.

Ha-ha, this sounds so stupid, but like is like a cup of coffee. When the cup is full, it's hot. The coffee gives off a warmth that comforts people; that draws them in, and invites them to take a sip of it's delicious liquid. It's like when someone is happy. Their life is full, they give off the aura of happiness. They're soothing, and they make you happy when you're with them. You always want to be around them. But when the cup is empty, it's cold. Lonely. Abandoned in search for something better. Something that could give them the warmth they crave. When you're sad people often leave you for people in higher spirits. Someone that could make them smile instead of bring them down. Unfortunately, I am that empty cup of coffee. I make people sad. I'm lonely. I've been abandoned by my friends, my family. Tossed aside for something better. For someone that could fill their needs. But I suppose that's how life is, yes?

People always leave. Whether they move on to someone more worthy of their time and patience, or they just simply leave. They could pass on, or just start ignoring you. They don't have to like you. Hell, they could've just been your friend out of pity. What then? What do you do when everyone's left, and you're on your own? When you don't know what to do, and life just seems so useless?

But.. Now that I really think about it.. Has Stan really left? Has he really abandoned me like I claim? Or have I just pushed him away and convinced myself he's the one who's done wrong? I mean, he tries to talk to me everyday. Whether it just be a hello, or a goodbye, or something. He attempts to hold that conversation with me. He tries, and I just ignore him. I push him away thinking I don't need him, that nothing he could say would make this any better. I push him away for his own good. He doesn't need the burden of my problems. I'm sure he has his own that he needs to deal with. Besides, mine aren't that important. There are so many other children who have it worse than me. People with terminal illnesses who might not be able to live a long life. People with mental illnesses, or disabilities, things that might life difficult. People who've lived through years of traumatizing abuse and events that will forever rest in their mind.

And what? All I have to deal with is a very strict mother, and a father who completely ignores me? That's not that bad. Well, it doesn't sound that bad. Sometimes it gets bad, though. When we fight for hours, and Ike has to sit there listening to it.

Ah, there's still no cracks. No morphing, nothing. I'm still as I was. My thought pattern hasn't distorted my appearance, or changed reality. Though, sometimes, I wish it would. What if, by a simple thought, I could change whatever I was?. How much different would life be? Would my mom be less strict? Would my dad do something besides ignore us and yell?

I touched the bruises painting my face and collar bone purple.

No, I don't think anything would ever change, no matter how much I wish.


	4. Smile!

**I hope that this longer chapter makes up for all the short ones I've posted. Had a lot of time in school where I didn't want to work, so this came out of it. Happier chapter, YAY! There might be a few of those coming up. Very nice, eh? Because I want to, I dedicate this Chapter to Monica, who's stuck with me through everything, and is the reason I continue this story. 3**

** I do not own South Park.**

* * *

Say something. You have to say something. You've made such a big deal out of this; acted like such a baby, and yet you're just going to sit here staring like an idiot? Nice, Kyle, nice. Crap, I think he said something. C'mon, respond!

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Is something wrong? You don't seem very happy."

He had to have repeated himself quite a few times, seeing how he looked quite annoyed. I don't blame him

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He had already asked about the bruises running along my face and neck. That's as much as he could see. I'm so glad, too. I looked a lot worse than what the general population could see. It didn't hurt so much anymore, only when Cartman decided to be an ass and jab his finger into it. But, still, it was nice to know that Stan cared enough to ask. I could see that glimmer in his eye when he spoke. I had never noticed it before. I'm not sure why.

"Are you sure? You're zoning out a lot."

I laughed a little. "Just getting lost in thought."

He turned back around so the teacher wouldn't give him any shit when class started. Hm, Stan..

I think our friendship started in preschool over something as simple as a courtyard game. Or crayons. It was something only preschoolers could forge a friendship over. It was so innocent at the time, but, I swear, we were meant to be friends. We fit together so well. We used to, anyway.

We were close in elementary school, always causing mischief and doing things that kids that age shouldn't do. But that didn't stop us. Hell, nothing really stopped us. Then Wendy came along. He started dating her in what, third, fourth grade? Over the years he still hung out with us, but Wendy was his top priority. That is, up until a few days ago, when he said they were done for good.. He still hasn't asked her back out, as usual, so I wonder if he actually meant what he said. But, the one down side to the old Stan being back is that he noticed when something was bothering me. Nothing really was right now; it has been a few days since my father and my fight, and I had yet to speak to either of them. I was actually in a pretty decent mood. Either way, Stan asking if something might be wrong made me smile.

You know, in all the years I've known Stan, I've never stopped and taken a good look at him. He was a good looking kid, there was no doubt about it. He had the prettiest blue eyes that glowed when he was happy. But there was just something about him… something that draws people to him. Something that you can't escape, no matter how hard you try. It pulls you in, with the promise of a great person, and refuses to let you go. Before you know it, you find yourself captivated by his very presence. Everything he does, everything he says. You constantly think about him. I never noticed before how much I really DO think about hi,. But that wasn't a bad thing, right?

I mean, he's supposed to be my best friend. There's nothing wrong with it, I'm sure. My thoughts have just been clouded lately. I've been caught up in the drama at home. But, for one time in quite a while, I feel… I feel good! I still look like something's wrong, as always, but I certainly feel better than I look. I think it's been three days since I spoke to either my mother or father. No yelling, no arguing. Not even so much as a glance when they walk in the door, or when we all eat dinner together. It hurt. It hurt like hell to know both my parents were ignoring me, but, at the same time, it felt nice to not have to come home in a bad mood, and go to sleep in an even worse one. There was no fighting, nothing. So, obviously, without something like that, I would realize what I usually think about, and think about it more. I think…

Well, thinking about him makes me feel kind of.. happy. It makes me feel like I'm a kid again, and I don't have a care in the world. I really like feeling like that.

Stan always used to make me feel good. Not like that, you pervert. In the way that made your day. Just the things we did and what we would talk about made the rest of the day that much better. We would talk and laugh and have the time of our lives.

I think it was five years ago, in seventh grade, that I began to drift away, and shoved a wedge between Stan and I. y mom started yelling more, and my dad started talking less. I thought it was just something normal, until all my mom did was yell and scream, and my dad wouldn't say a word to me. That's when I started to stop accepting his invitations to hang out. Eventually he just gave up. He would only ask once in a while not. Wait, shit! He said something again!

"What?"

He sighed, a playful smile lingering on his lips. "You're just not on your game today, are you?" I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head. "I SAID! What are you doing later?"

I thought for a moment. "Nothing. I don't think so, anyway."

He smile grew a bit. "Wanna do something? It's been a while since you said no, and I thought I'd ask again."

I smiled. "Hell, why not?"

Stan looked kind of shocked, but he was smiling. There was no doubt about that. His smile was beautiful; why hadn't I seen it before? Oh, I don't know.

Class was just about over, and I hadn't paid attention at all. But it was English. No one really paid attention in this class. Stan was still staring at me, smiling like he had been for the last few minutes. Was he really that happy? I hadn't seen him in quite a while, but I didn't realize saying yes to him would make him like that.

"So what do you wanna do?" I asked.

"Not sure yet. Maybe play some videogames. Maybe torture Cartman." I was sure he added that last part just for me.

I laughed. "Sounds good to me."

Talking to him still seemed so easy. I hadn't realized how much I'd pushed him away in the last few years. Why did I, anyway? To keep him from seeing what home life was like? Or just because I didn't want to see him? Was I so caught up in my BAWWWing I ignored his attempts to rekindle our once great friendship?

Oh, there's the bell. That sound is always so annoying. No one wants to hear the damn thing, but the school is so stupid it doesn't think to change it.

I had to go to Math, but I REALLY didn't want to. So I just decided to skip, and wait in the stairwell. No one ever looked, simply because no one ever thought to hide in the most obvious of places.

I hadn't skipped in a while; I really hadn't felt the need to. The last time I did was in eighth or ninth grade when my girlfriend, at the time, convinced me to make out with her in the boy's bathroom. I don't recall us getting caught, even though it was difficult for her to get out with all the teachers around. But I DO remember her dumping me to go out with this meat-head football player. She was a sweet girl. She was just shallow, and kind of stupid. The guy, Kevin I think his name was, took her virginity, then cheated on her. I never saw the point of that.

I've had a few girlfriends after that, but nothing too serious. Only thing's that lasted for a month at the most. They all either left me for someone else, or just didn't want to be with me anymore. I actually liked a few of them, and it hurt to have them leave me, but I moved on. I never said "I love you" to any of them. I could never tell if they actually liked me, or were just using me for someone to kiss or to show off and say, "That's right. I'm not single."

Stan, on the other hand, only ever had Wendy. They only ever broke up for a day, sometimes less, so he never really had a chance to go out with someone new. I know there were a lot of girls that wanted to go out with him, but Wendy could get possessive of Stan. A lot of times in seventh and eighth grade he would blow us off because Wendy threatened to leave him if he didn't come. Needless to say, after years of that crap, Stan finally left her. And it actually seemed like it was for good this time.

I was hiding behind the stairs when I heart feet come down them. They wouldn't be able to see me unless they came around the back.

"Did you hear about Stan and Wendy?" Once said.

"Yeah! Stan broke up with her. For good!"

The first one giggles. "I heard some ridiculous things like Stan was trying to get her to do drugs with him!"

The second one stopped and gasped. "No! That's not true, right?! I was gonna ask him to hang out today!"

"I dunno. He seems nice, but you never know!" I wonder if the first one was trying to scare the other one into not doing it..

"Well, I hope not. I really…"

The door closed behind the two girls, and I was alone again. Well, that was interesting. Kind of. Wonder who's spreading rumors like that. They might not even be rumors at all, that's the scary part.

I checked my phone. There was still fifteen minutes left of class, and I has nothing to do.

I wonder if that girl's really gonna ask Stan out. And if so, would he ditch me today to go spend time with her? I would be kind of upset if he did. I suck at video games, but that doesn't mean I don't have a good time trying to blow people's heads off and screaming obscene words at his TV when I die.

It I have such a good time, why the hell did I wait so long to hang out with him? No, I know the answer, I'm just very stupid. I didn't want to lose my best friend. But that's what I seemed to be doing.

Five minutes left. Shit, why is this period going by so slow? It's probably because I'm actually excited to be doing something. Every other say goes by really fast, when I'm dreading going home. God, I hate waiting…

Wait, there's the door again.

"Oh my god, I'm so nervous!" It was the same girl as before.

"Calm down, girl! It'll be fine!"

"But what if he says no?!"

Girl one laughed a bit. "Then wait a few days and ask again. He could be busy today."

"Okay, okay."

They kept babbling as they slowly made their way down the stairs. Just as they walked out the doors a second time, the bell sounded, signaling the end of another day. I rose, dragging what little I had to my locker, and shoveling it inside. Stan met me at the main staircase, as usual, his face a little sad.

"What's up?

"Melissa asked me to hang out." Ah, so that's who I had heard.

"And…?" I urged.

"I said no."

"Ah." I had to admit, I was actually happy.

"Yeah. She wanted to hang out today, but I already have plans with you."

I was gonna pull that "if you want to, go" line, but he spoke before me.

"Besides, I'd rather hang with you anyway."

I couldn't keep a smile from stretching across my face. Damn, this kid knew just how to take my mood from great, to the point where I felt like I was floating on air. Why did he have to be so damn cute all the time.

Wait. What?

"So what games do you wanna play?"

"Something violent."

He laughed, but tried to cover it up. "Dude, you suck at those games. You're only good at racing games. MAYBE."

"Gee, thanks, Stan. Way to make me feel good about myself." I pouted, making my bottom lip quiver.

"Aww. Is Kyle gonna cwy? Does he need his mommy?" Stan put his hands on his face and stuck out his lip.

I couldn't help but laugh at how stupid he looked doing that. He bust out in laughter, dropping his hands from his face.

When we finally stopped, he looked at me and grinned again. We were still walking, though our fit of laughter caused us to stop for a good few minutes. I don't know why it had taken us so damn long to get to his house. Maybe we were just walking really freaking slow.

Eventually we got to his house, and plopped down in front of his TV. He turned on his X-Box, and checked what game was in. I really wasn't sure what we were playing, but it was fun as hell. I kept dying, of course, but that didn't stop me. I was having a shit load of fun just running around, trying to kill people, but ending up getting killed myself.

"Shit!" I yelled. I was almost out of respawns, and I had just died AGAIN.

"Dude, you really suck at this game."

I turned to him, trying not to grin, and said, "Fuck you."

He grinned. "You know you wanna."

"What? Fuck you?" He nodded. "Oh, yes. You caught me! I would just love for you to stick your cock up my ass and pound me until I just break in half!" I tried to make my voice higher and softer, more girly. But I failed.

He started laughing again, and I couldn't help but join in. Damn, this felt good.

After our laughter had died down, he continued to play, and I continued to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter.

"Oh fuck this."

Stan laughed, taking out whatever game was in, and replaced it with a Need For Speed game. He was still gonna beat me, just because I failed at every video game I had ever played.

"Why're you in such a good mood today?" We were still racing, so he didn't turn to look at me like he usually would when asking a question. I was glad, too. I felt the smile on my face disappear, and be replaced by a more troubled look.

"Not sure. Maybe because I'm out of my house." The last sentence sounded more like a question; more like I was unsure of the answer, even though I knew why. I really didn't want to tell him anything. We were having such a great time, and I'd probably ruin it by being all depressive. "But let's forget about that while I kick your ass." I accelerated my car in an attempt to pass him. Instead I totaled my car coming around a sharp turn. When the game told me I sucked, I started laughing. I can pass school, I can get a girlfriend, no problem. But I can't fucking play video games.

We were on our third or fourth race when his mom walked in carrying Stan's younger brother. She looked surprised to see me, and I couldn't blame her. I would be shocked to see me too.

"Oh hello Kyle. It's been a while since I've seen you. Oh.. What'd you do to your face? That doesn't look too good." She didn't like to beat around the bush, but she was so caring, even to her son's friends. I love my mom and all, but Mrs. Marsh was the type of lady I would want to have for my mother.

"Nothin' too bad. No need to worry, Mrs. Marsh, I'm fine." I smiled reassuringly, and glanced over to her. I also flipped my car in the process.

"Oh, god dammit!"

"Ahahahah!! You suck so bad!!" Stan laughed so hard I swear I saw tears in his eyes.

His mom laughed, and made her way into the kitchen. I tossed my controller onto the floor and crossed my arms like a stubborn three year-old. I was only joking, sure, but it's kind of how I felt inside. Okay, okay. Not really. I was having fun, even if I was getting my ass kicked.

"Okay, okay. Let's do something else."

"Like…?"

Stan shrugged.

I sighed. That sure helped us a lot.

The game was still on, playing music and the sound of cars revving their engine in the background. It was one of those annoying songs that seem to repeat itself over and over again. Hell, the hole sound profile of the game was annoying, and seemed to stick in your head like a piece of chewy candy. Except not as sweet.

Stan was about to say something, but closed his mouth when my phone started ringing. I didn't know I had left my volume on all day, and it was a miracle someone didn't decide to text me in the middle of class. I would have had my ass REALLY beat if my parents had to pick my phone up from the principal's office.

I bit my lip as I checked the caller ID. Yup, just as I thought.

I flipped the ringing device open.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, where are you?"

I sighed. "Stan's. He wanted to hang out today."

"Oh." She sounded kind of disappointed. I think she wanted something to yell at me for, but there really wasn't anything. I hadn't done anything, but that never seems to stop her. "Some home before ten." And with that one sentence, she hung up.

Stan gave me a questioning look, and I just shrugged. I was probably just as confused as he was. Maybe more. I don't think I had such a normal conversation with her in quite a while. Maybe it was just a really good day. Seemed to be.

"Okay, enough of that," Stan said, grabbing the controller and tossing it to me. "Rematch."

I grinned. I was going o beat him this time, whether he liked it or not. Of course, what I want to happen, and what actually happens are too completely different things.

::::::::

I left Stan's around 9:30, giving myself a good half an hour to just wonder around, before I was due home. Sure, it was a Friday, but that didn't let me stay out any longer. I could barely stay up longer, according to my parents. But I really didn't go out that much, so I really didn't mind.

After we had gotten done playing games (he kicked my sorry ass again), Mrs. Marsh made us something to eat, and Stan and I joked around for a good while about a bunch of bullshit. I don't even remember half of what we said, since we were laughing so hard, but I do remember him trying to drink something but ending up choking on it when I said something. If I hadn't known any better, I would say we'd taken something to make us completely stupid. Or we'd drank enough for a bunch of people, and turned into one of those happy-drunks. Either way, it was great. I don't think I've smiled as much in five years as I had that day.

He hadn't mentioned anything about my mood for the rest of the day; thank god too. I was enjoying myself way too much to even think about thinking about how crappy my mood could be, and how I could be sitting at home, listening to yelling. Did that even make sense? Bet not.

But all throughout the night, I couldn't help but let my mind wonder in one direction. I kept thinking about Stan. He had really become handsome, rather than just the cute kid he once was. His eyes shined every time he spoke, and his smile seemed to light up his face, and even the entire room. There was just so many good things about this boy.. It really seemed impossible for any girl not to fall in love with him.

It made me feel so bad for forcing him out of my life. I could have just explained in the beginning, and he could help me now, rather than having a wall between us, and me feeling like I couldn't explain anything to him. There isn't a time, there isn't a place. I doubt I could ever even say the words "I'm sorry" without bursting out in tears. I know I could trust him. I know I could tell him anything, and he'd still accept me… right? It's not like I was telling him I was gay, and had the hots for him. It was just a simple explanation for the way I've been acting.

Wait a second… I'm not gay, right? Sure, I've been thinking about Stan a lot, but it's innocent. Harmless. I'm just making little observations about someone I've known since I was a little kid. It's not like I wanna have sex with him, and that's it. I wouldn't do that… unless I was drunk. But that doesn't matter. The point is, I wouldn't. Why am I even thinking about this? I'm attracted to females, not males. I don't find penises appealing, and I doubt I ever will. Hell, I've only ever seen a few guys I would consider good-looking, Stan being one of them. I'm not gay, and that's final.

I checked my phone. 9:55pm. I was just down the street from my house, so I turned around and began to walk back. The sky was clear, though the air was think with humidity from an upcoming storm. It wasn't supposed to rain until tomorrow, but you could feel it in the air. And smell it. Smelled kind of like cat piss.

When I walked in my door, Ike's eyes drifted over to me and he smiled. He always smiled at me when I walked in the door. It made me glad to be home… until I got yelled at, anyway.

"I'm home!" I called. Better safe than sorry.

I didn't feel like staying downstairs, so I went into my room. As stupid as this sounds, I kept re-playing the day over and over again on my head. I couldn't help it, though. I was happy, and I wanted to stay that happy. I didn't want the day to end. But I had to go to sleep soon, so I wanted to stay that happy until I have to.

Slipping didn't come as easily as I would like. I was tired, but I just couldn't seem to rest. This seemed to happen a lot. I'm no sure if I was becoming an insomniac, or I just had a lot on my mind. Or maybe both. God, that would suck.

You know, now that I think about it, Wendy really didn't deserve someone like Stan. She could be a bitch, and there never seemed to be any way to reason with her. She would drag Stan away from what he wanted to do so she could spend the day with her. And what would they even do? Go back to her place and watch a chick flick? She didn't like video games, so that option was out. Besides, what do girls even DO in their free time? Paint their nails and do each other's hair? And what, would they drag their boyfriends into doing that with them? None of my girlfriends ever did that. I mean, I rarely saw them outside of school, but they didn't make me do stupid shit like Wendy probably did with Stan. And while she would be bitching, Stan would probably be standing there, not saying anything. He's such a nice person, but he doesn't sugar coat things like someone would expect. He told Wendy the truth about how much she bitches, and he never heard the end of it. Where was I even going with this? Oh yeah, that's right. Bottom line is Stan is too nice for someone like Wendy. He's too good for her.

Huh. I wonder what it would be like to date someone like Stan. I mean, if I was a girl. I know he has no interest in guys, and he probably never will. This is just a hypothetical situation. How would he treat me? Would I even be good enough for someone like him? Probably not. I'm so riddled with issues that he probably wouldn't want to deal with me. Okay, I don't have THAT many issues, but I could still be an armful if I ever opened up and said what I was thinking. If I, hypothetically, started dating him, would that mean I would open up to him? Would I finally start to break down that wall that's been built up between us? Would he hold me when I'm down, and make my day with his smile and happiness? Would he make me happy, just by saying those three simple words? Of course, none of that would ever happen. I'm not attracted to men, and neither is he.

God dammit. No wonder I can't sleep! I think too damn much.


End file.
